The Robber Knight's Secret

09. A Little Torture is a Wondrous Thing

Ayla watched anxiously as the enemy's advance guard crossed the bridge she had fought so hard to protect not so long ago. She was standing on the outer castle wall, Dilli right beside her. Under normal circumstances, nothing could have prevented her from being down there, beside the battlefield, taking care of the wounded. Only a few months ago, Ayla had disobeyed a direct order from her father and joined the troops.

Only this time, the order to stay in the castle had not come from her father. It had come from Reuben—along with the threat that if she didn't stay, he would tie her up, gag her, and leave her in her room until the battle was over. The scary thing was: she was sure he would really have done it.

"Don't worry, Milady." Dilli gently patted her mistress's arm. "He's going to be all right."

"I'm not concerned for him!" Ayla snapped. "I'm just angry he made me stay behind!"

"Of course, Milady."

"And don't try to placate, me Dilli!"

"As you wish, Milady."

A few seconds went by in silence. Ayla's fingers nervously tapped on the rough stone of the crenels. The cold wind tugged at her hair. Winter was approaching. She should have brought a cloak with her. But now that she was here, in sight of the opposing armies, wild horses wouldn't be able to drag her down from the wall.

A few more silent moments passed.

"D-do you really think he's going to be all right though, Dilli? Really and truly?"

Ayla felt a comforting arm go around her and let her maid pull her close.

"Yes, Milady. There's no greater warrior than Sir Reuben. You know that."

"But he can be so terribly rash! What if... if..."

"He won't be hurt, Milady. And if he is, you'll quickly stitch him up again."

Ayla nodded. She didn't think she had the courage to speak right now.

"By the way, Milady," Dilli said in a forcedly cheerful voice, obviously trying to take her mistress's mind off things, "you never told me that plan he had come up with for beating the Margrave's advance guard. I suppose it was secret before, but couldn't you tell me now? I mean, it has to start soon. The enemy is almost over the bridge already and—"

A distant rumble drowned out the maid's voice. The eyes of both young women were drawn towards the river, where the bridge was being torn to pieces, squashing enemy soldiers into meat pies, dragging them underwater, breaking their backs and bones. The eyes of the maid were wide, those of the mistress resigned.

"I-I see what you mean now, Milady." Dilli's voice was just a little bit too high. "He is a bit rash, isn't he?"

*~*~**~*~*

Sir Reuben stood on the bank of the river, watching with grim satisfaction as the enemy turned tail and ran.

One of the villagers, bloodstained and breathing heavily, but still clutching a pickaxe in his hands, appeared beside him. Wide-eyed, he stared after the retreating soldiers of Falkenstein's army. Then his eyes moved and with something like awe fastened on Reuben.

"You did it, Sir," he rasped. "They're running, just like you said you would. You really did it."

Reuben shook his head, smiling. "No."

Theoderich, the young fellow who had so strongly disapproved of his plan before, joined the two of them at the riverbank. From what he saw on the lad's face, Reuben gathered his new squire didn't disapprove any longer. There was something much more potent than awe there: hero-worship.